


Luisa and the Wolf

by aparticularbandit



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Spoopy AU, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: Luisa is a healer.  Rose is a werewolf terrorizing her small town.  And yet, LOVE.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time she tried it, Luisa wasn’t sure it would work. She’d heard stories of werewolves who, on being thrown their clothes or having their name spoken aloud by someone who loved and trusted them, changed back into their human form, but she’d never seen it done. The idea of the first seemed a little too much for her, but in a world of magic and transformations, who was she to say how they worked?

No one.

Only a human being struggling to find her place among creatures that she did not and could not understand.

Luisa’d known for a long time – maybe too long – that Rose was one of those creatures of the night. If it were possible, she’d known as early as their first month together. Their little town had had a werewolf problem for as long as she could remember. Now, admittedly, this wasn’t very long; she’d only moved in a few months before then, on hearing that the town’s resident healer had died and that they were searching for a new one. She’d needed the change of scenery, the separation from her father, her brother, and the problems of her old town.

Her first patient had been ripped almost to shreds by deep, thick claw marks that seemed burned along their edges, and while she hadn’t known what they were at the time, the townspeople had and told her exactly what they were. The last person they’d found this way was their last healer, only _more_ so. She’d tried to save her patient and thought she succeeded, if succeeded was defined as _still alive_ and had nothing to do with the _quality_ of that life. Luisa wasn’t sure she agreed.

Even if she hadn’t been a healer, it would have been impossible to walk through the town without hearing complaints about the werewolf. Very rarely did she see patients like that first, although every now and again one appeared from a disastrous attempt to try and take down the creature; most of the complaints had to deal with it attacking someone’s sheep or cows. Some of them were just hearing the awful, _awful_ howling when the moon was bright and full enough for everything to be seen despite the dark, howling so deep and dark that no matter how much they covered their ears or filled them with fluff, it still pierced through.

For her part, Luisa had always thought there was something mournful to those cries. She couldn’t have said just why, if you asked her. It was just a feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, something she couldn’t name.

It hadn’t taken long after that before she met Rose. She’d heard about her here and there – it’d been just as impossible to avoid mention of Rose as it would have been to avoid mention of the werewolf. Everyone wanted to talk about the beautiful woman who wanted nothing to do with the men of the town, who spent most of her time in her house on the town’s outskirts all to herself, and who seemed to actively avoid the town itself as much as she could. Luisa had been curious, given that she also lived as close to the outskirts as her job would allow, but the most she ever saw of the woman was the flashes of red hair and pale skin in the distance. She’d certainly wondered about her more than she had about the werewolf.

Then, once, at the tavern, not drinking because Luisa didn’t drink but there because the tavern was the hub of all social life in the town, Rose had appeared. She’d known, then, why the townspeople hadn’t been able to stop talking about her because Luisa didn’t think she’d ever be able to stop talking about her either. Rose’s crystalized gaze had focused on her, and she’d come straight to her without hesitation.

_You’re my new neighbor_, Rose had said. _I’ve been meaning to meet you but didn’t know how to begin._

And in her voice was the same mournfulness of the wolf’s cries, even though Luisa hadn’t noticed it at the time.

There’d been no real talk of _neighbors_ after that. They’d left the tavern together because neither of them were much interested in drink, and they’d walked back together because Luisa’s place was near enough to Rose’s that it would have been awkward if they didn’t. But when Rose stopped with her and fiddled with her fingers at the door, when Rose had accepted her invitation in with eyes that kept glancing away as though afraid, when Rose had then kissed her unprompted and immediately apologized but still hadn’t removed her hand from where it just touched her face, Luisa had fallen as completely and wholeheartedly as she could.

She hadn’t known how to stop herself.

They spent as much time together after that as they could. Rose would find Luisa as soon as it was dark but would leave as soon as the sun’s light began to crest the trees lining the horizon. Luisa was never allowed in Rose’s home; it seemed easier to both for them for Luisa’s place to be theirs, even though there was never any discussion about it one way or the other. For that first little bit, Luisa hadn’t minded.

But then the full moon came, and Rose gave reasons to be away, and Luisa knew.

The more the pattern continued, the more certain Luisa was. Every month, every full moon, and she was alone in the bed they were beginning to call _theirs_ more than she’d ever called it _hers_. She asked Rose once why she was gone, and Rose made some excuse that Luisa was certain wouldn’t be the same if she asked again.

So, eventually, instead of a second question, she went.

If it were a question of love alone, Luisa was certain that Rose would change back, but trust was another thing entirely. How could she trust a woman who refused to let her into her house? How could she be sure that she wasn’t hiding something from her – something more than simply being a werewolf? But if she was going into the woods as she was now, completely convinced that even if she _didn’t_ change back that the wolf _wouldn’t_ hurt her, they would call that trust, wouldn’t they? _Someone_ would call that trust, even if someone else might call it foolishness. Maybe the two needed to be combined to be real, or maybe she was just as much of a reckless lovelorn fool as her brother had always said she was.

Luisa followed the cries as they grew ever louder, and she found the creature in what felt like the middle of the forest, even though she knew she couldn’t have gone in that deep. It stood alone, claws raking against a bare tree trunk, and when her footsteps made the slightest of sounds on the fallen leaves covering the forest floor, it turned to her. The bright blue eyes held her fast, and the wolf gave another cry that, if it were possible, sounded even more broken than the last as it ran toward her.

“Rose,” she whispered, and the creature stopped, its head twisting this way and that.

“Rose,” she’d said again, and she’d stepped forward, one hand out, as the creature moved back and away from her.

“Rose, _please_,” she’d said, “come back with me. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Her hand just brushed the creature’s coarse grey fur, and it began to shift until all that was left was the bare form of the woman she loved. Luisa cupped Rose’s cheek as she looked into her still blue eyes and said, very gently, “Next time, tell me. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

Rose nodded and buried her head in the crook of Luisa’s neck, her hands moving into the hair at the nape of her neck, and from then on, the wolf’s cries appeared to cease. The townspeople’s complaints ended. Everything seemed to be better.

But, even with the calling of her name, the wolf still came month after month, and as easily as they might begin, relationships aren’t always smooth, and love, though steady, can often put trust to shame.


	2. Chapter 2

It was months before their first argument, months of Rose coming to Luisa’s place as soon as it was dark and leaving just before it became light, months of Luisa being shut out of the place that was _only meant for Rose_ before she finally had enough of it.

The argument was held in secret with hushed tones because _everything_ was held in secret (although not always with hushed tones because they lived so far away from the hustle and bustle of town that those sorts of sounds could be buried beneath the townspeople’s fear of the dark and the wolf who had ceased eating their sheep). It was this that had so disturbed her – this refusal to be seen in the daylight and to keep everything under cover of darkness – and Rose had refused to respond, refused to explain, refused to do _anything_ but to gather her clothes and return to the home that Luisa had still never visited and now likely never would. They’d never had an argument before, and Luisa didn’t know that she could make up with someone who so steadfastly refused to admit that there was anything wrong with their situation.

(She knew she would make up with Rose, if she were asked, and she knew that Rose would make up with her, if she weren’t so stubborn as to refuse just by nature of her own stupidity, and she knew that eventually, if this wasn’t resolved, they would fight over it again…and make up again. It would be a cycle just as regular as Rose’s time of the month and one that would be just as unbroken until her own name was called and _she_ was asked to stay so that Rose would not be alone.)

Luisa hadn’t been paying attention to the days of the month in the slightest, and perhaps even more painful for whatever story Rose was trying to spin, she didn’t pay attention to the time of day either, storming over to Rose’s place with her skirts pulled high as soon as her last patient was cared for, in full view of any townsperson who might be looking instead of heading to the tavern for the evening. It was only when she pounded on Rose’s door, only when the redhead opened the door with wide eyes and peered out through the crack to make sure no one else was watching, that Luisa could feel the anger returning so hot that it pulsed beneath her skin.

“No one is looking, Rose.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Can I come in?”

Instead of answering her, Rose came out on the porch, shutting the door tight behind her, eyes still moving left and right before finally focusing on Luisa. “What are you doing here?” Her voice carried anger despite its hushed, whispered tones.

Luisa crossed her arms, gripping them with her fingers so tight that her nails dug half-moons into her bronze skin. “Why don’t you let me inside, and we can talk about it there?”

“No.”

It was all too easy, when fighting, for Luisa to move closer. She didn’t really _want_ to fight with Rose, and of course, in her opinion, the only reasonable end to a fight like this would be for them to come together. And the fact that Rose didn’t move backward but held her ground, teeth grit together and eyes only _occasionally_ focused on Luisa’s (and otherwise wandering over the expanse of skin left bare where her dress ended), only confirmed her suspicions that this would end the way she expected – _hopefully_ with her finally inside Rose’s place. “Why not?”

Rose took a deep breath and steeled her gaze. “Luisa, I don’t want you to go in there.”

“Why not?” Luisa asked, taking another step closer. Now she was so close that her feet were between Rose’s, and she could feel the other woman’s breath hot against her lips. “It can’t be worse than anything else I’ve seen.”

Standing this close, Rose’s stance began to falter. It was stubborn stupidity that forced her to stand her ground, despite knowing that she should _probably_ move away, and it was _that_ which Luisa intended to ply to her favor. Her gaze was no longer harsh, instead softening as it focused no longer on Luisa’s eyes but on her lips (which, to be fair, she’d colored beforehand with this in mind). “Luisa,” Rose said, swallowing once, her voice more a plea than a command, “I said no.”

“I said _yes_.”

Luisa peered up, her gaze focused on the one still focused lower, and her voice, although quiet, was no less stern than it had been before. She watched as Rose’s breath hitched just the slightest bit at the demand, waited for the accompanying whine that didn’t come. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rose’s fingers flinch at her sides.

“It’s not your place,” Rose finally whispered as she brushed her fingers along the cinched waist of Luisa’s dress.

“It could be.” Luisa leaned up just enough to brush her lips across Rose’s jawline.

Rose shivered and stepped back, hands jerking away from Luisa’s waist, her eyes flicking to the world beyond them then back to Luisa’s eyes. “Not in public,” she whispered, pleading. “Please.”

“Then let me inside.”

For a moment, Rose hesitated. One hand started to move back to Luisa’s waist, but then she looked up again suddenly. This time, when her eyes widened, there was something inhuman in their blue shade, something Luisa recognized but didn’t fear. All too quickly, Rose stepped back. “Not right now, Lu. _Please._”

“What’s wrong?” Luisa turned around, trying to see what was making Rose so skittish, but saw nothing and no one. “Rose, what’s—?”

But when she turned back, Rose had already gone, and she was left with nothing but the sight of the door slamming shut in front of her.

Luisa didn’t leave the porch. Her arms remained crossed, fingers tapping along her arms. As the sky grew darker, she knocked on the door again – once, twice, _multiple_ times – hoping against hope that Rose would open the door again, and while she didn’t exactly _yell_ at Rose to come out, she did speak as loudly and as persuasively as she could to try and get her to change her mind.

But nothing seemed to work. It wasn’t until Luisa finally gave up with a sigh, the stars twinkling in the overhead sky, and began to leave – _and then decided against it, turning back from just past the porch, “With another thing,” sitting on the tip of her lips_ – that she saw the back door and heard it slam against the back wall as it closed.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Excuse you, Rose, _running into the forest doesn’t get rid of me_.”

As she ran beneath the darkening sky, and as the full moon began to shine overhead (with the obvious response of _“Shit_” from Luisa), she found discarded bits of Rose’s clothing scattered among the trees. Her teeth gritted together, and she glared at each piece as though that would make her feel better about the whole proceedings. _It didn’t._ She picked them up anyway – each and every one – until she reached the blue-eyed creature standing in the middle of what they’d come to call their clearing.

The creature stared at her, waiting, but Luisa just glared at her. Then she threw her clothes at her. “Put your fucking clothes back on so we can have a normal argument like normal people. I will be waiting at your place, and you _will_ be letting me inside. Fuck you for your shitty timing.”

Then she left without saying anything further.

It wasn’t until she was back at Rose’s place that Luisa realized she hadn’t mentioned Rose’s name once since she finished changing, and she wondered if that was truly necessary. It certainly had been every other time before, but if the legends were true—

And they turned out to be.

As Luisa looked up to the edge of the forest, debating whether or not she should go back for Rose again, she saw none other than the redhead, barefoot, her head hanging, walking out of the forest and back to her place. Luisa went around to the back door to meet her, the displeased look still on her face. “Now, are you going to let me inside or not?”

Rose raised her head and met Luisa’s eyes, her lips pressing together. “Can’t we go back to your place? I’m exhausted, and mine—”

“No,” Luisa interrupted, her voice firm. “I want to see yours.”

“Even if I ask very nicely?”

Luisa’s eyes narrowed again. “If you were exhausted, you wouldn’t want to walk the extra way to get to my place. You would be fine with staying here.” She turned to look at the closed door. “What are you hiding in there, anyway?”

“Nothing.”

“Then it should be okay for me to go in,” Luisa said, and she moved to open the door.

Rose stopped her, placing her hand over Luisa’s and flattening it against the wooden boards so that it could not grip the wrought iron handle. Luisa could feel her moving so that she was just against her back, which _really_ wasn’t fair, considering. As Rose’s fingers spread hers apart so that hers could fit between them, she wrapped one hand around Luisa’s waist and held her against her. “Luisa,” she said, her breath hot on the base of her neck.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Luisa tried to stand her ground. She didn’t even look back, yet, which was a point in her favor, she thought. “Hm?” she murmured, unable to get herself to form actual words.

“Not right now.”

“No, now,” Luisa said, her voice not as firm as it was before, although she felt childish – Rose chiding her and responding as though she _should_ be chided.

“I haven’t prepared it for you,” Rose said, brushing her nose along the length of Luisa’s neck, “and I don’t want you to see it as it is now. I’m not hiding anything from you, but I want it to at least look nice, considering,” she paused and pressed a kiss to her skin, “it will be your first time here.”

This time, it was Lusia who shivered, and she turned around to face Rose. This was perhaps not the _best_ idea, because it meant she had to feel the full weight of those sparkling blue eyes on her. “Tomorrow, then,” she said, her voice quiet.

Rose nodded, her gaze moving to Luisa’s lips again. “And I can come back with you now?”

Luisa took a deep breath and pulled her eyes away. “No,” she said with a shake of her head, and she moved Rose’s arm from around her waist. “Not until you’ve let me in here.” She crossed her arms as though to hold herself together as she forced herself away from the other woman. “Not until after I’ve seen….” Her voice faded away. She didn’t know what she _would_ see. It didn’t matter so much as being let in at all.

“Okay then.” Rose’s tone was disappointed at best, and Luisa knew if she looked up from her feet she would see a pout on Rose’s face. So she refused to look up. She could see enough to notice Rose’s hand reaching for her again, and as her fingers brushed along Luisa’s arm, she pulled away again. Rose’s fingers bent and then moved to the door, and this time Luisa didn’t stop her. Rose hesitated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

Luisa didn’t say anything else, just nodded once, and forced herself to leave, her hands still crossed and wrapped around herself. She shivered one in the cold and wished that she were inside. By the time she made it back to her own house, she was shivering, and no matter what she did to try and warm herself up (including piling covers and blankets and pillows on her bed), it didn’t help. She still felt cold. It felt like she might not feel warm again.

What she wanted, more than almost anything, was to have Rose with her, to have her wrap her arms around her and hold her tight, to curl up next to her and rest her head against her chest. Rose had always run a little warm. But Luisa wasn’t going to reward the other woman for hiding things from her, and she wasn’t going to let the fight just patch itself back up. Letting Rose stay with her now would only prove that Rose didn’t have to do anything at all.

And she couldn’t do that.

…no, she _could_, and Luisa knew that in many cases, she _would_. Truth be told, she likely wouldn’t make it more than once without Rose with her.

But once might be all she needed.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning came with a loud banging on her front door. Luisa’s eyes snapped open, and she groaned. Her head ached. She ran a hand through her messy brown hair and glanced outside her window. The sun was only just beginning to break the horizon, so no wonder Rose was already—

No. Rose hadn’t stayed with her. She’d been alone.

The banging came on the door again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Luisa rolled out of bed, pulling her hair back and up into an untidy little ponytail, and walked on bare feet to the front door. She shivered as she walked through her house, and she took a black and red flannel shirt from near the front door, pulled it on, and buttoned it up to make herself feel a little warmer. It didn’t help. Not really. But it was there nevertheless.

She pulled the door open, and she gasped, eyes widening.

“Bring him in, bring him in!”

Outside, one of the townspeople was holding one of the other men who lived in town, who, on closer inspection, turned out to be none other than the golden-haired sheriff. His holster was empty, and the skin of his fingers was rubbed raw. There was a gash in his shoulder so deep that it seemed like what was left was barely hanging on, and there was another deep gash across his head, staining the right side of his hair a deep, bloody red.

The other townsperson carried the sheriff into Luisa’s main room and, at her instruction, laid him down on her patient’s table. Then he stepped back, wringing his straw hat between his hands. “He just made it to the tavern like this. He ain’t been saying nothing. He tripped over the step and I caught him and then he didn’t move none.” He looked up and met Luisa’s eyes. “Can you fix him up?”

Luisa looked away from the townsperson and back to the sheriff. He didn’t seem to be bleeding from his wounds any longer, which normally wasn’t a good sign, but it might have just been a side-effect of his wounds. She examined the edges of the gash through his arm and noted scratch marks across the bone and what looked like a burn on the edges of the wound itself – cauterizing, almost. She couldn’t think of any weapon that might do that.

But she could think of a creature that could.

“I don’t know,” Luisa said finally. She looked up and back at the townsperson. “You don’t need to stay. I’ll do what I can. Go back to the tavern, and if anyone else shows up like this, let me know.”

The man nodded once, put his hat square back on his head, and started to leave. Then, as he made it to the door, he mumbled, “It’s that stupid werewolf again.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Luisa. “We ought to be hunting it. It can’t keep killing us like this.”

“He’s not dead yet,” Luisa said, meeting the townsperson’s dark eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. The next one will be.”

Then he left, the door swinging shut with a slam behind him. Luisa jumped a bit then started to her work. The first thing she needed to do was pull on proper footwear and clothes so that she didn’t get infected with anything he might be carrying, but after that, her job was what it was. No one else tried to come into the building or disturb her as she worked, and while there wasn’t much she could do with the sheriff’s arm other than try to keep it as patched together as she could while it healed, she could do a little bit of sewing on the gash in his head.

It was while she switched from one wound to the other that there came a knocking, however soft, at her door. Luisa’s head popped up, and she pulled the gloves from her hands as she went to the front door. It was only on opening it and seeing the redhead standing outside that Luisa remembered that she was meant to be going over to Rose’s house – she’d forgotten in everything that had happened with the sheriff, and even if she hadn’t, her patients had to come first.

“Rose,” she said, a blush darkening her cheeks, “I’m sorry. I’ve been a little busy. Come on in.”

Rose didn’t say anything, but did as Luisa said, walking inside as Luisa held the door open. She froze as she saw the sheriff where he lay on Luisa’s patient’s table. “What happened to him?” she asked, her voice soft.

“I thought you could tell me.”

Rose looked back to Luisa, who’d crossed her arms about her work gown, and shook her head. “This wasn’t me,” she said in a fervent hush. “You _saw_ me, Luisa. You know I changed back.”

“I know.” Luisa turned back to the sheriff and gestured to the wound in his arm. “But this—” She looked up, meeting Rose’s wide eyes. “This _is_ a werewolf wound, isn’t it?”

Rose’s eyes shifted from Luisa back down to the sheriff. She watched him for a few moments, as though gauging to see if he was conscious or not, and when he didn’t move and his blue eyes didn’t open, she gave a sharp little nod. She still didn’t say anything, though, and Luisa was certain it was because she was afraid of what the sheriff might overhear and remember.

So Luisa didn’t keep that conversation going. Instead, she moved back over to the sheriff and started to stitch together the wound in the sheriff’s head. “I can still come see you, right?” she asked after a few minutes, glancing up. “After I’m done with the sheriff? Or did you—”

“_Wolf._”

Luisa _jumped_.

The sheriff’s eyes were still shut tight, closed against something – the light, probably, which hadn’t been helping Luisa’s headache in the slightest; if anything, it’d been growing worse as time went on – but he shuddered once, clearly conscious in his sleep. “_Wolf_,” he repeated again, and his eyes snapped open as he woke. His pupils were large and unfocused, and he grabbed onto Luisa’s arm with one hand. He turned to her, tightening his hold on her arm, and in an instant, Rose was at her side, ripping the sheriff’s hand from Luisa’s arm and standing between them before he could get any closer to her.

Rose moved Luisa further away from the sheriff and continued to stand between the two of them, her eyes clear and cold and focused entirely on the man now sitting on Luisa’s table. “What wolf?” she asked, her voice soft but louder than it had been, with words that were carefully measured. “Did you see a wolf?”

The sheriff’s gaze moved away from Luisa, and he squinted, as though trying to get himself to focus. When he looked up at Rose, his eyes were bloodshot, even though he hadn’t smelled of drink. “_Wolf_,” he said again, this time much more firmly, and he tried to prop himself up with his torn arm only to let out a long yell when he put any pressure on it at all.

Luisa thought she could hear a howl in that yell.

Then the sheriff pushed himself forward at the two of them, and in a move Luisa should have known to expect but didn’t, Rose shoved her backwards and leapt forward to meet him. Luisa fell backwards against her shelves and didn’t move at first. It hurt too much. When she finally did move, she rubbed her hand on her lower back, a groan bursting through her lips.

And there was Rose, covered in the sheriff’s blood, standing over his unmoving body. She looked back, her own bright blue eyes wild, as Luisa stood. “Don’t come any closer,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“Is he—?”

Luisa tried to look at the sheriff’s body, but there wasn’t much she could see. Rose was in the way, shielding her, maybe.

“Yes,” Rose whispered. She turned back to the sheriff and let out a deep breath. “We need to burn him.” Her eyes shifted around the room. “You don’t have any blood on you, do you?”

Luisa shook her head once, examined her body, and then shook her head again.

“Go hide in my house,” Rose continued, not turning back to Luisa. “You’ll be safe there. I’ll take care of him and….” Her voice faded off as she turned to look around Luisa’s house. “I’ll make sure everything here is taken care of so that you can come back.” Her gaze landed on Luisa again. “You can’t touch any of—”

“I’ve been working on him almost since I woke up.”

This time, _Luisa’s_ voice was soft, her eyes widening. “I’ve been careful, but—” She tugged on her lower lip. “What if…what if I—”

“We’ll believe that you haven’t.” Rose met her eyes. “We’ll find out either way when the moon rises later.” But she didn’t move any closer to Luisa. “Please – you need to leave. You can’t be here right now.”

Luisa nodded once as she began to stumble towards her front door. “I thought you didn’t want me in your house.”

“I don’t. But it’s better that you’re there and not here.” Rose’s voice was still soft. “It’s…. You can go, now. You were supposed to see it today anyway.” Rose sighed and looked up towards the ceiling. “But the longer we’re here having this conversation, the more likely it is that something will happen to you.”

“Would that be so bad?” Luisa asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then I’d be like you.”

“You don’t want to be like me.” Rose’s gaze shifted downwards. “And that’s a conversation for later. _Please_, Luisa.”

“Ok.” Luisa nodded again. “Okay.”

As she left her house, Luisa could feel eyes watching her. She turned around just enough to see the townsperson from before who had brought the sheriff to her. She walked over to him, her eyes lowered. “I’m sorry,” she said, her brows furrowing. “The sheriff didn’t make it. He has to be burned; there’s a contaminant in his bloodstream—”

“Wolf _bit_ him, didn’t it?”

Luisa looked up and nodded once without meeting the townsperson’s eyes. “Yes.”

“And you’re not—”

“No.” Luisa met his eyes then, even though she wasn’t sure herself, and hopefully he couldn’t hear her uncertainty in her voice. “I’m not.” She turned back to her house, blinking a couple of times. “I’m not good at cleaning everything up, but I have someone else who can make sure everything’s good. Someone I trust.”

“Another wolf?”

Luisa’s head whirled back so that she could meet the townsperson’s eyes again, and her lips pressed together. “What makes you say that?”

“The only one who doesn’t have to worry about wolf blood is another wolf.” The townsperson gave a shrug, as if his answer were the simplest thing in the world – and maybe, for him, it was. “As careful as your friend might be,” he gave a nod in the direction of Luisa’s house, “there’s always a risk. And if you ain’t worried about it – and _she_ ain’t worried about it – then what else do we think?”

“You said there were other werewolves around here, that the town had a werewolf problem.”

The townsperson nodded.

“Maybe the reason that’s stopped for so long is that you had a hunter watching you.”

The townsperson’s eyes widened, and they shifted back to Luisa. “Are you saying she’s a hunter?”

Luisa shook her head. “I’m saying that there’s other options. You don’t have to assume _wolf_ or someone trying to hurt you. You could assume something _good_.”

The townsperson shook his head. “After all of them attacks we had before you got here, it’s easier to assume the worst.” Then he smiled. “But you might be onto something. Maybe we should find a hunter of our own, make sure that this problem of ours gets taken care of right and proper. Then you won’t have to be seeing anyone else torn up like that there sheriff was.”

“I don’t think—”

But the townsperson wasn’t listening to Luisa anymore, instead wandering off back to the tavern. “Yes,” he said, and she could barely hear him, “a hunter might be just what we need.”

* * *

Luisa shut the door behind her and let out a deeply held breath. It was all she could do to keep herself from collapsing against the door and landing on the floor – which was likely what she would have done if she were back in her own house, alone, but which she didn’t feel comfortable enough to do in a building that she’d only seen from the outside – and, worse than that, had been intentionally kept from entering for reasons she still didn’t understand.

Speaking of which—

Despite the light still streaming outside, it seemed as though none of that got through the windows into Rose’s house. There were thick curtains covering them as though to keep the light out (or to keep other people from looking in). As dark as it was, Luisa had a hard time seeing anything at all. She knew, entering through the front door, that she had to have entered a living room of some sort, and she stretched her hands out to look for something like a sofa so that she could curl up on it. Her head was still pounding horribly – and the cool, dark feel of Rose’s house helped with that, even though it didn’t help the chill she’d had since she’d left Rose’s side under the dark sky – and she wanted nothing more than to curl up on a mattress and close her eyes. She didn’t think she had the energy to make it to Rose’s bedroom, especially since that would require her looking around to try and find where it was, and she felt far too exhausted and in too much pain to go that far.

Her hand brushed against something excessively soft and plush, and Luisa let out a hum of pleasure. She crawled onto what she assumed was a sofa, let out another wobbling sigh, and then closed her eyes in the already darkened room and quickly fell unconscious.

* * *

Luisa woke with a start as the door near to her slammed shut. Then she winced – her headache might have been better, but she could still feel her head throbbing the slightest bit, and the loud noise certainly hadn’t helped. She lifted herself just enough so that she could see the tall woman standing next to her, but even then, she couldn’t make out much. It might have been light outside earlier, but it was much darker now. She reached out one hand and just touched the woman’s bare, still damp skin.

“Rose?”

The other woman startled at her touch and then squinted. “Luisa?” she asked.

Luisa nodded before realizing that the other woman probably couldn’t see what she was doing. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Is that you?”

It was a stupid question. She knew from the other woman’s voice that it was Rose, knew from the way her hand slowly reached out and took Luisa’s hand, knew from its gentle squeeze. “Yes. I took care of your house. You should be safe there now.”

“Mmhm.” Luisa tugged on Rose’s hand. “Come here. Please.”

It was only when Rose moved to curl up next to her that she realized Rose wasn’t wearing anything. That’s when the late hour made sense; Rose must have burned her clothes as well when she burned the sheriff, and she’d needed the dark sky to hide her nakedness as she returned to her house. Rose began to brush one hand through Luisa’s dark hair, and Luisa curled a little closer to her, resting her head on her chest.

“Please let me stay,” Luisa said, her voice full of exhaustion. “Just for a little bit.” Her eyes searched where she was sure Rose’s eyes were. “And you stay with me.”

“Luisa, when the moon rises—”

“I can call you by name here, too, just as much as in the woods or in my own house, can’t I?”

Rose nodded; Luisa could feel her chin tapping her shoulder.

“Then, when you feel the change come, tell me. I’ll call you. You’ll stay with me.”

And so they did.

* * *

Luisa didn’t know what she expected to see in Rose’s house when she woke up, but it wasn’t what she saw. Her arm wrapped a little tighter around Rose’s bare stomach, her chin cresting her shoulder just enough to orient herself in this space that very clearly was not hers. Then her eyes widened as she caught sight of the walls, full of what she expected Rose hadn’t wanted her to see: hunting equipment.

Even to her untrained eye, that’s what it was – bear traps that hung along the wall, high tech bows that seemed thicker than the simple light wood ones that other hunters sometimes carried, and even, as her sight grew clearer the more she focused, what looked to be a gun. Adorning the walls next to it were more equipment – boxes of silver bullets and arrows with silver tips.

Rose moved against her, burying her head in the crook of her neck.

“You’re a hunter,” Luisa said, her voice soft. “You hunt other werewolves.”

“Of course,” Rose mumbled into her neck. She didn’t move back to look Luisa in the face, instead continuing to hide against her. “The best hunters are all werewolves.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry - i didn't finish the full second write, so if the last ~700 words feels rough, that's why. >.>

Time passed.

Not much time, you must understand, but enough time for Luisa to come to understand what was truly revealed to her on the day she first visited Rose’s house. It hadn’t changed anything about the way she saw Rose – a little more tragedy, at first, only for her to realize that this was exactly why Rose hadn’t wanted to tell her anything about it in the first place – but it still sat in the back of her mind, asking to be pondered over. If all werewolf hunters were werewolves themselves, what did that mean about the new werewolf in town?

Now, things were almost the opposite of how they had been before. Luisa was still at her house during the day, taking care of patients, although there were no other attacks such as the one on the sheriff, and then shortly before it grew dark, instead of Rose coming over to her place, she would shut up shop and go to Rose’s house, where the redhead would sometimes stay curled up with her but more often than not would lock her inside with enough gear to protect herself should be attacked.

It seemed this was how werewolves truly worked – finding the hunter of the territory, fighting them until they were no longer able to fight back (Rose did not say _to the death_, but it was the only thing Luisa could imagine), and then destroying and mutilating whomever and whatever they wanted. The few attacks previous were new wolves overstepping their bounds, trying to invade new territory when their own could no longer fulfill their ravenous and destructive hunger, and testing to see how Rose – or whomever the current territory belonged to – would respond; they just hadn’t imagined that she would rely just as much on her hunter training as she would on her wolfen abilities.

The past few months she and Luisa spent together were more of a middling peace than anything permanent. The townspeople had been more right to say it than they knew; they didn’t just have _a_ werewolf problem; they had a _werewolves_ problem. But it seemed that no matter how much time Rose spent hunting the werewolf who tried to devour the sheriff, which was a clear and blatant attack on her community, there was no one there to be found.

Or perhaps whoever they were was just that good at hiding.

* * *

The door shut gently as Rose returned to her bedroom, the sun barely brushing across the horizon outside. She knew that it was so, given that she’d only just been outside herself, only just returning from the forest where she had been waiting and checking and smelling for something that continued to elude her. But inside, everything still seemed dark and cold – and she noticed Luisa shivering under the blankets on her bed. She knew that the other woman should be waking soon and leaving, but she couldn’t help herself. Moving herself over to the bed, Rose slowly pulled back the covers and curled up next to the other woman, who turned towards her warmth and buried her head in her chest. Her eyes opened as she woke. “Why do you have to keep it so cold in here?”

“I don’t _feel_ cold, Lu. Just you.” Rose pressed a gentle kiss to the very tip of Luisa’s nose, watching with wide blue eyes as the other woman’s face scrunched up.

“You know I don’t like it when you do that,” Luisa said, rubbing the back of one hand against her nose.

“I know.”

Luisa wrapped her arms around Rose’s waist and buried her head a little bit back into Rose’s chest, turning her face upwards so she could continue to face her. “Can I just stay here today? I don’t really _need_ to go take care of anyone. Most of their minor aches and pains are just that, and I end up telling them to just go get some rest instead of actually being any real help.”

“How many of them would actually take the time to rest if you didn’t tell them to?”

Luisa’s face scrunched up again. “They should listen to their wives. And their kids. And—”

“Like I listen to you?” Rose asked, lifting Luisa’s face by curling a finger under her chin – just enough to press another kiss to the tip of her nose.

Luisa rubbed a hand against her nose again, pouting. “I told you to _stop that_.”

“And I didn’t listen,” Rose replied with one corner of her lips curving upwards into a smile. “If even _I_ don’t listen to my mate, and she’s the most beautiful and persuasive mate in the world, how could anyone else just listen to theirs?”

Luisa opened her mouth as though to respond, then stopped. Her eyes blinked a couple of times, and her head tilted to one side. “What did you call me?”

Rose froze. At first, she didn’t say anything else because she didn’t know _what_ to say. But Luisa watched her and waited so patiently that she couldn’t help but repeat it again out loud the same way she’d been thinking it so often in the past few weeks, trying to look anywhere but at Luisa, trying to avoid meeting her eyes. “My mate,” she said finally, her voice a whisper. “It’s a wolf term. I don’t think you—”

“I know what it means.” Luisa’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on Rose’s back. “Is that how you think of me? As your mate?”

Rose struggled to say anything. When she realized there was nothing else to say, she just nodded in reply. Then her eyes flicked up so that she could watch Luisa’s face and try to gauge her reaction. Other than the slightest widening of her hazel eyes – which could mean _anything_ – Rose couldn’t figure out how Luisa felt about the term. Then Luisa shifted just enough to pull herself up, and she pressed a gentle, _gentle_ kiss to Rose’s lips, so gentle that Rose could feel herself let out a little sigh of contentment. Her mate leaned forward against her, and Rose turned just the slightest bit so that the other woman lay on top of her instead of next to her.

When Luisa pulled back, Rose’s eyes were wide and concerned. “You know, for wolves, this is a sign of deference.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to _force_ me into this.”

“You made way for me,” Luisa replied with a smug grin. “But if you’d rather—”

“No.” Rose shook her head with a small smile. She brushed a hand through Luisa’s hair, fingers through different strands, all the way through to where the edge of her hair touched her shoulder, and she smiled with that same feeling of contentment. “I’m okay. With you.” She stopped just long enough to search Luisa’s hazel eyes. “But only with you, you understand.”

“Of course.” Somehow Luisa’s smile grew even more smug, although Rose hadn’t thought it was possible. “I wouldn’t want you to be this way for anyone but me.” Then she leaned down to give Rose another kiss, communicating quite easily enough that she had no intentions of going anywhere else for the rest of the day unless she was kicked out.

Even healers got days off, after all.

* * *

It was the next day, shortly after Luisa returned to her own place, showered, and prepared for patients, that a loud pounding came at her door. She’d grown accustomed to that being the customary form of first address in the months she’d been in the town, and while she still _hated_ it (and prior to the past few weeks wherein Rose had expected her to stay with her when it was dark out, Luisa had found a way to actually _avoid_ it, by sitting outside on the porch when she could instead of staying unseen in the house), there wasn’t anything she could do to change it. So, gritting her teeth but masking it by pulling them into an attempt at her normally bright smile, Luisa went to answer the door.

There on the other side, just standing here, was the townsperson who had left the sheriff in her care and a woman she’d never seen before. The woman had a long blonde braid tucked over her shoulder so that its tip rested just atop her left breast, and she wore a white sleeveless shirt covered with sunflowers that emphasized her chest. Her hands were shoved into the front pockets of her jeans, but her eyes were shaded with the edge of her broad-brimmed straw hat so that Luisa couldn’t tell much about them. Luisa’s eyes moved from the strange new woman (with boots!) to the townsperson from before. “Who’s this?” she asked, her eyes shifting back and forth before finally resting on the townsperson again.

“This is our new hunter,” the townsperson said with a bright smile. He took a deep breath before leaning forward and whispering, as though the other woman couldn’t hear it, “She specializes in werewolf troubles.”

Luisa’s face froze, and in that moment, she could feel the weight of the other woman’s stare on her. “That attack was one in months without any,” Luisa said, her voice soft, “and we haven’t seen any attacks since. Are you sure this was the best idea?”

“Sounds like someone a werewolf or their lover might say,” the blonde woman said, head tilting to one side in a way that at one point Luisa might have found attractive if she wasn’t so afraid of the teeth bared behind it. “But you’re a healer. Surely you’re not either of those. You wouldn’t be so _stupid_.”

Luisa felt her teeth grit together again even as they bared themselves into a smile.

“Or, I don’t know,” the woman continued, her head still tilted to one side, “would you?”

“I’m not stupid,” Luisa felt herself say with a deep grumbling in the back of her throat, and she knew that was what the other woman wanted from her by the way her lips curved into a tight-lipped smile that to anyone else might have seemed genuine but to Luisa felt nothing but less than. She turned back to the townsperson, brows lifted. “Is that all you’re here for? Introducing her around the town?”

“Haven’t introduced her yet.”

“If she’s a good hunter, I don’t need to know her name, do I? She can keep herself taken care of. Worse things in werewolves than anything else she’ll find in this town.”

“Spoken like someone who knows,” the blonde woman said.

Luisa shrugged once. “I’m the healer,” she said. “I see every wound that comes in and out of this town, and _I’m_ the one who takes care of them.”

“Except that burning of the sheriff. How’d you know about that?”

“_I’m a healer_,” Luisa repeated, her teeth no longer gritted, although the words were still forced around the smile she’s trying to keep on her lips. “My schooling taught me how to take care of a contaminant in the blood. Burn the body. Get rid of the blood. Suppress the contagion.” Her fingers tightened on the door joist. “We don’t just take care of the disease; we prevent the spread of it. Something I’m sure _you_ don’t know anything about.”

That was when the woman grinned, truly grinned, and it sent a shiver down Luisa’s spine. “How do you know what I know?”

This time Luisa didn’t say anything to answer that – not because she knew better than to take the bait (because she obviously didn’t), but because she wanted out of this situation as soon as possible. Her eyes turned to the townsperson. “You done here?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He touched the new blonde woman’s shoulder, and she turned to him, and it was then that Luisa could see the sparkle in her steel gray eyes – hunger, hunger, _hunger_ – something she hadn’t been able to see until just then. The townsperson wouldn’t make it through twenty-four hours if Rose were defeated. None of them would. This woman, whoever she was, wherever she came from, didn’t care about the survival of the town (not like Rose did). She just wanted people on whom to feed.

Luisa shut the door behind her as they left and went and sat down on her couch, bringing her knees up against her chest. All she wanted to do was to go find Rose. All she wanted to do was tell her everything that happened, so that she knew, but if the townsperson really were introducing this new blonde woman to everyone, she would find Rose probably next. Luisa turned to look through her window, one of the ones facing directly towards Rose’s place, and she found that the townsperson and the blonde woman hadn’t even heading in that direction at all but had instead turned to go back into the town proper.

Luisa could only think of one reason why they might be acting that way.

It didn’t make her feel any better at all.

* * *

“Rose?” Luisa murmured as soon as the sun went down and she made her way to the other woman’s house. The door shut tightly closed behind her, making little sound. Since the first time she’d seen the room, it had become a lot more bare – barren, if she could use the term without feeling that it was a little overused. The bows and silver-tipped arrows and the guns with their silver bullets were often gone with Rose while she was hunting the other werewolf in the woods (the one they still hadn’t found), the bear traps (which she’d later learned were lined with silver as well so that they caused just as much pain as they did hold the other werewolf in place) sometimes clanged against the walls when she arrived but were just as quickly pulled away when Rose went out as she didn’t like leaving them in the forest during the day when they would be useless at best, and beyond that there were other various hunting accoutrements that disappeared with Rose, ones that Luisa didn’t know or quite understand but apparently did wonders on werewolves and their kin.

Sometimes Luisa didn’t make it to her house in time to see Rose before the redhead left for the hunt, but something inside her told her that this time she had. “_Rose_,” she called a little louder, and the redhead returned from where Luisa knew the back door was, her blue eyes staring at her, giving her a look over, making sure that nothing was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, her voice a quiet hush. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you see her?” Luisa asked without explaining at first, her eyes wide. She stepped closer to Rose, fingers tracing up and down her arm before finally tightening on her bicep. “The new hunter. Did you see her?”

“I saw.”

“They said they were coming to see everyone in town. Did they come see you before me? I know they didn’t come after.”

“No.”

“Then you know what that means.”

At first, Rose didn’t say anything. Her head tilted downward, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Luisa’s head. “I have to be more careful.” Her fingers brushed through Luisa’s dark hair. “That’s all that means.”

“Or you could let her catch the other werewolf first. She has to know that there are two of you.” The words tumbled out of her all at once. Mostly, Luisa didn’t want Rose to go out into the forest now that it was dark. It wasn’t a matter of not wanting to be alone, but purely one of not wanting Rose to leave and put herself in danger.

“If no one stands up to her, the town will be eaten. She knows I’m here, and she knows what I am.” Her head tilted to one side, and she gave Luisa’s forehead a lingering kiss. “She won’t hurt me until the full moon. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe.”

Luisa’s brow furrowed. “Then why are _you_ going out hunting? Why do you take all of this with you? If she won’t change until the full moon and the other one won’t change until then, why do you go out all the time? If you won’t find her, you won’t find _him_ either.”

“_Him?_” Rose asked, her voice soft. “How do you know it’s a him?”

Luisa pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t know. I just know that _you_ don’t have to _leave_.” She rubbed her hand up and down Rose’s arm again. “So stay with me. Just for a little while. Just once.”

“I can’t,” Rose said. “There are things you still don’t know, things you _can’t_ know unless you train to hunt.” She lifted Luisa’s chin, fingers curling just under it, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You don’t want to learn to hunt, do you?”

“No.”

“And you still trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course. I just—”

“I’ll be okay.” Rose brushed locks of dark hair out of Luisa’s face again. “Unlike healers, hunters don’t get a day off.” Having said that, she pressed another lingering kiss to Luisa’s forehead, resettled the gun across her shoulders, and headed out again.

Luisa stood still until she heard the door sliding shut behind Rose, and while it was all she wanted to go to the back door and watch the redhead continue off into the even darker woods, she made herself stay in place. If she watched, she might chase after her, and if she chased after her, she might be putting Rose in jeopardy, although she couldn’t say how she knew that. And as minutes passed, Luisa dragged herself to Rose’s bed, where she curled up beneath the fur blankets and atop the soft mattress and forced herself to go to sleep.

* * *

More time passed.

Less than before, perhaps, but done in much the same way: Luisa finding Rose’s place when she shut up shop for the evening, Rose gone while it was dark to try and find the third werewolf before they could attack someone again, and only the briefest of moments where the two of them were together. It was even less than it was before; Luisa could feel the eyes of the blonde female hunter on them, even when she couldn’t see her anywhere around. And in all that time, the woman never once came to Rose’s home to meet her. It felt like something was building, but she couldn’t quite say what.

And then—

Then the full moon came.

* * *

Luisa had been counting down the days, watching the moon in the dark as it rose on her way to Rose’s place, so when the day finally came, it was with a deep seated feeling of dread that sat square in the middle of her stomach. She didn’t want to leave Rose’s house, didn’t want to leave Rose _alone_, didn’t want to spend so much time away from her – even if Rose was confident in her own abilities, Luisa couldn’t help but think of the worst. It was _easy_ to think of the worst; her mind leapt to it readily enough. So she dragged her feet as she got out of bed, as she went about the little morning routine she’d gotten into the habit of keeping while she stayed at Rose’s, as she made her way to the kitchen and didn’t scrounge about for food because most of Rose’s meat was raw and that was the way she liked it.

Rose made her way through the back door just around the time that Luisa was starting to head out – much later than she normally was – and Luisa hesitated, not wanting to go. She turned to Rose, and she couldn’t smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Of course.” Rose tried to offer her a smile, but it looked more like a wince than anything. “Are you heading out already?”

Luisa nodded. “I should…. I should go and get some work done, shouldn’t I? I can’t just take days off whenever I want.” Despite the fact that she _had_ taken time off only a few weeks earlier simply because she wanted to, there was the problem that if _she_ missed today, the blonde hunter might think that _she_ was a werewolf as well. Not that it mattered. If she defeated Rose, then she would eat everyone in the town anyway. That was the feeling Luisa got from her.

Rose glanced down to her hands. “You had better go then. Wouldn’t want you to be too late.”

Luisa didn’t move at first, watching Rose, waiting for something, but when there was nothing left, no further words, she turned back to the door. “Yeah, I guess I’d better go.”

“Luisa—”

She stopped and turned to face the redhead, who’d finally looked up. Their eyes just met. She wanted Rose to ask her to stay. If she did, she would. She knew that. Rose could ask her for almost anything, and she would give it if she could. But when she didn’t say anything more, Luisa’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “Rose—”

“No, go. I’ll be okay.” Rose shuffled the gun on her shoulder. “I have a lot of things to do today. You shouldn’t be around.” Then, before Luisa could think to leave or to continue, Rose said, “And don’t come. When it gets dark, don’t come. Stay in bed. Stay away from the forest.”

_I don’t want you to get hurt._

But she didn’t say it. She didn’t have to.

Luisa pressed her lips together and nodded once. “Then I’ll…I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?” She tried to smile, her eyes barely meeting Rose’s again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, just like I _always_ see you tomorrow. This won’t be any different from the past few months. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Luisa—”

“No, don’t.” Luisa held up her hand and started to open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rose stepped across the room just enough to be able to kiss her. She lingered again – and Luisa _wanted_ her to linger – but then Luisa put her hand back up, resting just on Rose’s chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she murmured. “This isn’t goodbye forever. Just goodbye for now.” She brushed her other hand through Rose’s red curls. “Don’t worry about protecting the town. Just come back to me.”

Rose swallowed once and nodded. “Tomorrow, she said, her voice soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’s right.”

* * *

But despite all of that, Luisa couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that continued to grow in the pit of her stomach as the hours passed by. She couldn’t keep herself from looking out the window over towards Rose’s place and trying to see what she could of Rose’s preparations. She couldn’t make herself stay focused in the present, and when it was time to close up shop, shortly before the sky grew dark, she curled up on her sofa and watched.

Rose ran into the forest as the sky grew dark, and two forms followed after her, and Luisa _couldn’t_ stay put, no matter what she had told Rose before. The two forms were distinct from each other – one with a lighter color fringed through and around her fur that Luisa guessed was the wolf form of the blonde female hunter, and the other shortly after, a little bit slower, its head sniffing this way and that, following behind her but without having been seen by her. Luisa knew, then, who the other werewolf was and why he was deciding to reveal himself to Rose now when he hadn’t before.

It would have been a brilliant tactic if Luisa hadn’t been involved.

—and she shouldn’t _be_ involved. There was no way that she would make it to Rose, make it through and past all of the traps that Rose had in place to get to her, make it without running into either of the other wolves first. But she couldn’t not _try_.

So she threw on the forest green sweater that once belonged to her mother in the smallest hope that maybe it would camouflage her against the bark and leaves and forest colors of _the forest_ and ran as quickly as she could after them.

The forest didn’t seem as safe as it once did. Even the trees seemed to be against her. Branches caught in her hastily pulled back hair, scratched against her face, and pulled at her sweater. But still she kept moving. The light of the full moon no longer seemed to shine through the branches as merrily as it once did, either, and she hadn’t gotten very far into the forest before the third of the werewolves grabbed her in his paws.

She knew it was him. It couldn’t be Rose, who wouldn’t hold her quite so tight, and it couldn’t be the blonde, who wouldn’t care enough to _hold_ her instead of tearing her to shreds. No, this was the werewolf who had hidden in the town in plain sight for the past two months while Rose had been looking for him, the one who had been right under her nose the whole time.

“You killed the sheriff,” Luisa said. “You killed him, and you brought his torn body to me because you knew if he fought you, he would win.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “You brought him to me because he was good and you knew if I was in danger _Rose would kill him_.”

The wolf didn’t say anything, didn’t even howl, but pressed his cold, wet nose on the back of her neck. 

He seemed to laugh when she shivered at his touch. Then there was the sound of loud deeper in the wood – branches broken from high up in their trees, so thick that they gave an echoing boom; sharp growling that seemed to reverberate through the woods; the thud of bodies falling _or landing_ from too high up – and the wolf held her close to his too warm chest and rushed to meet the sound. He stopped just outside of the clearing that Luisa had come to call _theirs_ – hers and Rose’s – and continued to hold her against him as she took in the sight before her.

There, in the middle of the clearing, was the wolf that she knew was Rose from how often she had seen her, and there, bloody and bleeding and yet _still fighting_ was the blonde hunter in her wolf form. But it was clear that the blonde was losing badly. She was bleeding in one too many places, and she was hobbling on two of her four legs, the other two not willing to hold her weight. Eventually, she crumbled and fell, and that was it – Rose gripped her throat between her sharp teeth and tore it out, spraying herself with blood.

But Rose, too, was tired. Even Luisa could see that. Rose was _wounded_, stumbling a little as she walked until her nose lifted, sniffed the air, and she toughened herself, eyes glaring in Luisa’s direction. Of course, she knew Luisa by scent, and when the wolf holding her captive pushed her out, finally releasing her, Rose ran toward her as though to protect her from the imminent threat of the wolf behind her.

Only this time, instead of letting Rose push her out of the way, Luisa took the full brunt of the attack.

Then she fell.

She could feel the edges of the bite burning, cauterizing themselves, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been torn almost entirely in half. There wasn’t much she could do at this point but force herself to keep breathing. Her eyes focused as much as they could on the wolf of the woman she loved, and she did not look away as she tore the other wolf to even smaller shreds than that of the wolf who had once been the blonde hunter. And when Rose was done, she moved, slowly, over to Luisa, stopping just close enough so that she was looming over her.

“_Rose_,” Luisa managed to whisper. “_Rose._”

And all at once there was no wolf next to her but the form of the woman she loved with tears pooling in her eyes and spilling over them – they seemed to sparkle in the dead dark of her blue eyes. Rose crawled over to her and very carefully lifted her, cradling against her. “You’re going to be okay,” Rose whispered, brushing her hand through Luisa’s hair, which had pulled itself from its ponytail and was now spattered with blood. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to let you—”

Luisa raised a bloody hand – bloody, _her own blood_ – but she didn’t want to think about that to cup Rose’s face gently. “You did good. You did _good_. I should have trusted you to take care of everything but then I saw him and I—” She coughs and her mouth tastes like the time she tried to lick a copper knife when she was three years old.

“You did what you thought you had to do.” Rose cradled Luisa’s head against her.

Luisa looked up. “Rose.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

Rose glanced down, and Luisa smiled, briefly, before leaning up just enough to give her one last kiss. “_I should have trusted you._”

Then she took one last breath.

* * *

They say, sometimes, on a full moon that you can hear the mournful cries of a wolf hidden in the woods. It isn’t very loud, but if you listen hard enough, you can hear it.

But those camping in the woods know the truth: you don’t hear _one_ wolf.

You hear two.


End file.
